Romanova
by writeandprint
Summary: Natalia Romanova was tied to a chair, about to be killed. But he said one sentence that changed her life forever. "I've killed a Black Widow before, and I'll kill one again." WARNING - MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
1. Hawkeye

Natalia Romanova didn't talk to people she had to kill. She guessed that the man pointing an arrow at her head didn't usually. But he'd hesitated, and she made the most of that.

"What did you say?" She asked again, and she felt the cold rush into her fingertips. She was alert, she could see her gun, right behind... Him. Not necessarily tall, he was imposing, with close cut hair, and large muscles, and the resting expression usually associated with a serial killer. That was probably close to the truth, she reflected, but who was she to judge.

"I said I've killed a black widow before, and I'm not afraid to do it again." He had an American accent, Iowa? She was good at accents, she'd had many. She smiled, the usual charming smile that could help with lesser men.

"Well you are wrong. I'm Black Widow. Lucky you though." She felt strangely off though, his words were odd.

"Don't lie, how many of you are there?" She hated him. He was annoying.

"There's just _me." _

"That's what the other one said," Emotion was in his voice for the first time. It wasn't confusion, but it was very close. Natalia felt an emotion which, if she hadn't know better, could have been fear. Her would be assassin smiled slightly, "Well, I think you better tell me about yourself." 

Natalia Romanova was born in Stalingrad, and had lived out her childhood in Мстители Children's home. She always described as, bleak, when the reality was far far worse. She'd taken to stealing money, from anyone and everyone, for the one thing that gave her a release. Ballet. She'd always privately thought that her mother was a dancer, because she had a natural talent. She had three lessons a week, and she would spend the rest of her time in her room, dancing to a soundtrack in her head. She'd forget the bugs, the bullies, and her whole body would be ballet. She didn't say any of this to him. Instead she shrugged, "Child discovers ballet. Child likes ballet. Child grows up. Child joins Bolshoi,"  
"The Bolshoi?" He raised an eyebrow, "They're good."  
She smiled, "The best. I was the best."  
"And now you're here."  
"I was spotted, in an entirely different way. I always had fast reflexes, everybody gets those from a Home, but the ballet meant that I was agile. I was fast, I was flexible. I was perfect material."  
"You became a spy."  
"Aged eighteen. I gave it all up. The best chance I ever had."  
"You regret it?"  
"I'm about to die."  
"Fair point."  
"I don't regret it. It was the right thing to do." The man nodded, and kicked the gun towards her. If her hands weren't tied, she could kill him right now. She was very confused, "Why are you doing that?" She asked, as he walked over to a boarded up window.  
"I've heard that exact story, word for word, twice." He said, and jumped out the window. By the time she got their, exactly thirty seconds later, he was gone.

"ебать" She whispered, and it wasn't because he had got away.


	2. Barton

Headquarters hadn't noticed she was gone, or if they had, they didn't mention it. They must have known that she was in the warehouse, she knew she was being tracked, but they didn't know about Hawkeye. She didn't plan on telling them. She was good at finding out information, and the secret service data banks had about every recorded spy and super hero in existence. He was from Iowa, and specialist archers are few are far between. She knew she should report him, and she planned on doing so, but something blocked her every time she tried. She also knew she should research the Black Widows, but again she had never had the chance. That's what she told herself, in reality, she was scared of what she might find. So she suppressed the feelings deep inside herself, like she'd been doing all her life.

She got up, showered, went to the firing range, went to combat classes, she lived. But she had something in her life she had never felt before. She was unsure. She had never felt unsure in her life, she'd always had a belief, her ballet, her work, and now? She found herself reverting back to one thing that kept her calm. She stole random objects from work. She assembled her collection. Other smoked, but she shuddered at the thought of tar slowing her performance, or bit their nails, which she found отвратительно. She stole, little objects, small enough not to be noticed. And then, out of habit, to record her speed, to check that she could, she built a phone. She left it on the side of her bed, and didn't touch it for days.

_If it had been 2014 she would have tweeted the photo, but it was 1999, so instead Alexandria just looked at the art for a while. It wasn't particularly good, or particularly skilled, but she looked at it for a while, before moving on. Their was only one other looking at it, and she smiled at him shyly before moving on. The next day it was gone, and she wished she'd had a camera for the art of the archer painted on a doorway. _

"I knew you'd meet me here," Natalia didn't turn around, and stood perfectly still. Clint Barton sat in the window, his bow pointed at her back.

"If this is a trap, I'll be gone before you can kill me."

"I know," She turned around, her gun pointed at his chest, "I want all you know about the Black Widow Initiative."  
"You must know," He said slowly, "To know the name."  
"Everything is an initiative, this is the 20th century. They're are hundreds of initiatives around, The Winter Soldier Initiative, The Red Room initiative, the Daredevil Initiative"

"That is private information."

"They are keeping private information from me Hawkeye. I am Black Widow, I have the highest security clearance apart from Putin. And if you're telling the truth..."  
"I am,"  
"That's what I'm worried about."  
"You have a plan."  
Natalia smiled, "I am going to tie you to that chair, and I'm going to leave. There's a phone on the side. I'll call you when I find out information."  
"How do I know it's not bugged?" He shouldn't trust her.

"You don't. You can leave now if you want." She waved the phone at him, and he cursed. He sat on the chair, and she wrapped the rope around his arms, her fingers lightly touching his calloused skin. "Have fun Hawkeye." She whispered in his ear, and walked out the door.


	3. Clint

_Confidence, and a plan. _The two things needed for a successful espionage. She didn't have a plan, and she was low on confidence, but she was amazing at faking it. She walked down the halls in her heeled boots, and her black catsuit. She glared at anybody who got to close to her. A huddled group of scientists seperated as she approached, and she smiled. Her lipstick was red, her blood was pumping, and she was taking control.

"Romanova!" A voice called, and she turned and smiled at her boss, Alex Petrovich

" сэр," She raised an eyebrow, "You want me?"  
"No guns on premises Romaova," He smiled, and extended his hand.  
"сэр, with all due respect, I refuse to be without my guns." _Confidence._

"And if it's an order?" He could be dangerous.  
"сэр, if there is an emergency, I'd prefer to know that I can kill,"

He smiled again, and withdrew your hand, "You're brave Romanova. That could get you in gtrouble one day."  
"I'm not brave сэр, I'm smart," She turned and walked down the corridor, finishing the sentence in her mind, _and that's getting me into trouble right now._

She reached head office, and swiped her pass, before moving in quickly. What she was doing now was unusual, she had exactly one minute before she was picked up on cameras. "Move," She growled at a desk worker, and slid into his chair, swiped her pass, and brought up the datanet.

_Black Widow _She typed in, her fingers flying. Her file came up, top clearance level only.

_Black Widows. _She took a deep breath and pressed enter.

_**Warning – Insufficient Clearance. Security has been alerted. **_**Внимание - недостаточного зазора. Безопасности в известность.**

"ебать" She whispered, and moved away quickly as a light above her moniter lit up. By the door, the poor desk worker moved in front of her, and she absent-mindedly smashed her palm into his face, while bringing out a phone from her holster. She would have another minute before this was hacked into. She tapped a number, and held it to her ear.

Clint had been sitting by the phone for three days, when it rang, and he picked it up quickly. "Clearance failed, ул. Комарова, 21 Зеленодольск fifth window." He heard the tone, and smiled as he grabbed his bow.

Natalia hung up, and walked confidently down the corridors to Petrovich's office, her footsteps making loud noises on the metal floor. She rammed her shoulder into the door, and burst in. Doctor Afanasiy looked up straight into the barrel of her gun.

"Take a seat Doctor," She smiled, and kicked a chair towards him.

"Natalia?" He asked, his hands shaking. He was a desky, not used to combat. He sat. "Natalia what's going on?"  
"I have a few questions for you sir," She said, hoping this wasn't the biggest mistake of her life. "In fact, just four words. The Black Widow Project."  
He froze, and wiped his upper lip. "Their is no..."  
She kicked the chair back and he fell to the floor, "Don't lie to me Doctor. I already know the truth. I want to here it from your own lips," _Lies lies lies. _She heard an alarm go off, and she slammed the door shut, and turned to lock. Poor Doctor Afanasiy, he was careless, she was not. He cleared his throat.

"The Black Widow Project," He started, slowly, cautious.

"If you want to live I suggest that you get a бля move on Doctor."

"Operation Red Room." He whispered. "Twelve girls, orphanned, trained from birth, given false memories. The Black Widow Project."

"The Bolshoi?" She whispered, feeling her world crumbling.

"Fake," He couldn't meet her eyes.

"The Home?"

"Fake."  
"My friends? My dancing?"  
"All fake."  
She took a deep breath, "Side effects."  
"Prolonged life," He looked up at her, fear all over his face, "And infertility."  
"Thank you Doctor," She smiled, her heart frozen, "For your consideration." She pulled the trigger.


	4. My team

_Two minutes._

She stepped away from the body, and pointed her gun at the door, standing parrallel to it. She unlocked it, and the door swung open, and a young squaddy ran through. The bullet hit him in the back of his head.

_One minute 50 seconds._

Out the door, along the corridor, up into a small window sill. Three men, foot to groin, elbow in face, head smash, thrown on the floor. The three lay unconscious, maybe they'd survive.

_One minute 35 seconds._

And further along the corridors, until a group of around five armed soldiers are their, guns at her head.

"Drop the weapon!" One yelled. He was out of his depth. She dropped the gun, and he scuttled towards her, bending down to pick it up. She kicked her foot up into his head, and fell to the floor, grabbing his neck and raising him above her body, slipping her fingers around her guns cool embrace, shooting another in the head. The boy writhed in her arms as the bullets hit him, and the other soldier fell to the floor. She'd designed the bullet proof uniforms with one fatal flaw, and she hit it perfectly, three times. They fell, and she stepped carefully over their bodies, making sure she didn't get blood on her boots.

_One minute_

He ran at her, and she snapped his neck. Her boots clicked on the cold floor. Her heart beat softly. She reached the end of Enaieawi Ward, and she swiped her card. An alarm went off. **Rejected. **The door opened, and she shot the soldier through the heart before he could pull out the card.

_fifty five seconds._

Reloading the gun, with a satisfying click, she she shot the security camera down. Sparks flew and she grabbed the soldiers pass, unlocking the next door along quickly. She heard running footsteps, and she carried on with a stride, refusing to break into anything quicker.

She was by the window when she heard the click of a gun. She turned to see Ivan Petrovich.

"Romanova," His face was cold and hard, "You're a traitor."

"No," She smiled, "You're a traitor. You created a weapon."  
"A weapon for the good of our nation!" He hissed, his hand perfectly still.

"A weapon that's been turned against you." She smiled, "Tell me Ivan, how does that feel?"  
"Do not call me Iva..."  
She interrupted him, "To know that all your hard work, has resulted in this. The ultimate weapon, given to the other side."  
"I have other black widows!" He yelled, the gun staying perfectly still.

_Zero seconds._

"But you don't have another me," She leapt back through the window, the bullet flying over her head.


	5. My friend

Natalia was falling, her guns pointed in the air, her red hair billowing like a cloud of fire and blood. She hung suspended for a moment in time, beautiful and deadly, until she was grabbed by a swinging body.

"Perfect timing," Hawkeye had a wrist wrapped in his hand, the other grabbing on to the rope from the arrow for dear life. Literally.  
"I pride myself on being punctual," she smiled, and he dropped her. She rolled into the landing, and shot the sniper at the window. They broke into a run, and she felt something moving deep inside of her. She was alive, she was excited, she was the Black Widow. "Twelve O'clock," she yelled, and Hawkeye fired an arrow straight into the head of another solider, and she shot the one next to him in the neck.

"Fuck," She looked to the roof, "Company,"

Hawkeye fired up at them, and she shot all the bullets out of her gun, "Cover!" She yelled, and ducked behind him and reloaded, firing over his shoulder. They fell, but more stood over the bodies.

"We're going to have to run for it," Hawkeye said, his face a perfect mask of boredom.

"On three, I'll cover you," She shot another down, and reloaded again. "One," She shot, one down before he could reach for the trigger, "Two. Three,"

He ran, and she continued shooting, snipers falling before they could reach their vantage point.

"Reload!" She yelled, and paused. No arrows came flying. She glanced over her shoulder for a split second and swore. "Reload!" She yelled, and he nodded, but they were out of time, no longer a team, they were a mess. She ran back to him, and fired up, but they were losing now. She was dodging bullets, and they both nodded at each other at the same time, and turned, and ran.

Five meters to the alley where they could get to safety.

Four meters, bullets were digging into walls, and sirens were blazing.

Three meters, time slowed down, she twisted her body as she felt the bullet racing towards her.

So close.

Hawkeye.

A bent knee, a push from her heel to her toes, a leap.

_I can tackle him down. _

A grab round his neck with her arm, but he was strong, he resisted.

Too too slow.

Time sped up again, as Natalia Romanova crumpled and fell to the ground, covered in blood.

**AN: I hate authors notes, but I feel the need to apologise for the super short crappy chapter. Will get better I swear, review if you like I guess x. Anything you want to see? PM me or write it in a review, as I love to make people happy xx**


	6. My fault

She was sixteen, and was walking alone. Her hood was up and her feet were wet. It was snowing, and she was freezing, and she was the happiest she had ever felt.

_Lies._

She was dancing and she was pure, she was whole, she was beautiful.

_Lies._

She'd just had her first kiss, with a boy on the school bus, who had said she was pretty, and she giggled all night.

_Lies._

She was Black Widow, and she was a killer.

_**Truth**_

A hand was on her wrist, checking her pulse, and she grabbed it. The fingers loosened, then another hand took hers.

"Alive?"  
"Yes," Her voice was croaky and hoarse.

"Good. We need to get going."  
"We?" The hands on hers loosened, and she opened her eyes to look up at the dingy ceiling.

"Neither of us are going to make it out the country alive. We're stuck together."  
"Shame," She turned her head, "Damage?"

Hawkeye knelt beside her, and touched her neck with his rough fingers. "It hit you here. You should have died. You were out for a week. They keep catching up with us, but it's not far to the airport."  
"Why didn't I die?" She asked, and he knelt back on his heels.

"What happened that made you defect?" He looked at her.

"Who said I'm defecting?" She felt better looking at his face, so she looked away.

"We're leaving in two hours." He stood up, and she grabbed his ankle.

"What's your name?" She asked, and he gently nudged her head with his boot.

"Clint Barton." He didn't have many expressions, but she knew that he would smile if he wasn't in danger, "You?"  
"Natasha," She lied, "Natasha Romanoff."

He nodded, seeing nothing unusual in this. "We need to go."

Three hours later she was at an abandoned airfield, holding her gun closely in one hand, the other hand hidden in Clints coat. He'd given it to her after she wouldn't stop shivering, and she watched him now as he set up a landing space, gently igniting flares. He came over to her, and pushed back her hair.

"You need to change the bandage on that," he said, and she swung the gun around so it cracked into his head. He collapsed onto the floor, and she gently lay his coat over him.

"I can't leave yet," She whispered, "I'm sorry."

They found him unconcious, with a lipstick stain on his cheek.


	7. I'm sorry

**Two Years Later.**

"She's a risk to every society," Coulson massaged his forehead, and Clint gazed at him impassively. "She's killed at least eighty people."  
"Politicians?" He looked down at the arrow across his lap.  
"And their families." He looked up sharply.

"What?"

Coulson sighed, "Most recent, Ivan Petrovich found dead alongside his wife and three children."  
"Any survivors?" He asked.

"The dog apparently. She is a danger Barton. We sent you to kill her before, but you let her live." He gazed at Clint, who still looked bored, "Not again Barton."  
Clint nodded, and stood up, "Do I get any specialist arrows?"  
"Barton,"  
"I heard you. Do I?"  
Coulson sighed, "Go ask Fury."

Clint Barton spotted her straight away. She was blending in superbly, but he'd always had an eye for this sort of thing. She was in the crowd, wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and pumps. Her red hair was underneath a yellow raincoat, and he moved towards her. He bumped into her, and he saw her grab her pocket. That was where the gun was then. He followed her through the crowds as she entered a small alley. He counted to ten, then followed. She was standing at the end of it, her yellow coat on the floor her gun out.

"Fast," He smiled.

"Raise your hands," She looked so different. Her face was harder, she had more scars, and her hair was dirty and in a ponytail. "Raise your hands!"  
He raised his bow instead and pointed it at her, "Good enough for you?"

"You crazy ублюдок," She jumped at him, and he swung the bow around so that it hit her hands and knocked the guns from her hand, and she spun her legs around until they were wrapped around his neck. He threw himself backwards and crushed her legs against the wall, and grabbed her waist and threw her off. She landed on her hands, and swung her legs underneath him, then kicked up into his face. He grabbed her foot, and threw her, but she grabbed his neck with her hands and head butted him, and he reeled backwards and grabbed his bow where he had dropped it, and nocked an arrow at her head.

"We should fight more often," He smiled as she lay panting, "You've improved,"  
She kicked his legs out from underneath him and pointed her gun at his head, "Checkmate."  
"I can still kill you," He smiled.

"Who can kill each other first?"  
"Want to find out?"

"Not especially no."

"Afraid you'll lose?"  
"Afraid I'll win," He raised an eyebrow, and her grip on his wrist loosened a little, and his arrow moved closer to her head.

"Why?" She tilted her head, and slammed her palm into his nose, he flipped her over and let loose an arrow which grabbed her suit and pinned it to the wall. "You missed," She reached around to grab it.

"I didn't," He pointed the arrow at her head. "Don't move Natasha,"

"You have to kill me." She held up her chin, she looked so tired.

"Children. His children Natasha." His hands weren't shaking. His breath was slow.

"What about mine!" She screamed. "What about my children? My childhood! He took that a fucking way from me! He deserved to die!"  
"I have to kill you Natasha," He said, and she nodded.

"Make if fucking quick you bloody archer."  
He looked at her eyes, wide and angry, and nodded, and spun around and killed the sniper on the roof behind him. "You are getting me in so much fucking trouble," He sighed, and grabbed the arrow. "Knock me out again and I will kill you."


	8. I'm grateful

"For fucks sake Barton!" Fury was, well, furious, "What the fuck do you think you are fucking doing you absolute fucker?" He slammed his hands down on the desk, and glared at Clint with a boiling rage. Lesser men would cower, Clint looked bored.

"Following me instinct."  
"Sir. Fucking Sir! This is insubordination! This is fucking outrageous. How fucking dare you!" Silence. "You had fucking explicit orders. Coulson, did Agent fucking Barton have explicit orders?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Why the fuck is she here then?"

Natasha folded her arms, "Because I'm on your side."  
"_Who gave you permission to fucking talk?_"  
"I did."  
"Sir." Fury growled.  
"Sir."

"How can we trust you?" Coulson raised his hands as Clint glared at him.  
"Because I said so."  
"_Give me a proper fucking reason or I swear to the motherfucking God on high I will throw you out of this fucking aircraft and no give two damn shits if you die." _

"She took a bullet for me Fury," He said, _either that or she was trying to kill me. _"And those guys have been fucking with her for her whole life. She wants revenge."  
"Do you?" Coulson looked at Natasha, and she smiled.  
"I'm a trained killer. I was raised my whole life in The Red Room, where they churn out girls like me. I'm infertile, I have no memory of my past, and I've never made my own decisions. I'm supposed to be emotionless, but I'm _angry. _They turned me into a robot, do you know how that feels? All my happy memories are lies. I have nothing to loose. You think I'll get emotional and cry over a kill? I won't. Think I can be distracted from a job? I can't. Think that one day I'll just disappear into the night, and won't come back? _That is never going to happen. _You don't even need to worry about maternity leave." She smiled, and Nick Fury leaned back.

"Well, you are certainly something. Fighting skills?"  
"I'm sure your sniper was fitted with a camera."  
"About that..." Clint started, and she grabbed his arm.  
"Barton I think we're in enough trouble already,"

"Clever too," Fury.  
"Thank you Sir," She smiled.  
"I'm still angry,"

"Of course sir."  
He rubbed his forehead and sighed, "Final say on this matter. Romanoff can stay..."  
"_Thank _you Sir," Clint almost growled.  
"Barton," Coulson hissed, and Natasha dug her nails into his skin. A weaker man would wince. He almost did. Everything about Natasha was designed for conflict, and her nails were sharp.

"Romanoff can stay, and so can Barton, _if _she keeps her shit together."

"If?" She asked.

"Otherwise, you're both tied up, and thrown off the hovercraft, and I don't really give a fuck after that point."

"Understood Sir. Thank you sir."  
He nodded, "I'm watching you Romanoff. Don't you dare try to fuck with me."

"I wouldn't sir." He swept out of the room, and Coulson stepped forward.

"Clint, you need a debrief, Natasha, I'll show you around." Clint nodded and followed Fury out, and Coulson grabbed Natasha's arm.  
"You can run back to Russia, but I promise you, Fury will hurt Barton if you do."  
"If I did that, I wouldn't care," She said, pulling away her arm.

"Natasha, I know you must care for Clint deep in your heart, so I'm guessing this is a threat. Fury will not refrain from killing him."  
"Good to know," Her voice was cool, and she pushed down all emotions, apart from her rage.

**AN: Very boring chapter, but had to happen, sorry :)**


	9. I need you

Natasha lay on the bed in the hotel room and sighed. It was sunset, they had been here for three days, and she was _bored out of her fucking mind._ They were watching a target, to find out when he checked in and out of his hotel room, to discover what time on average he was back, and oh golly gee was it fun. Three days in this shitty hotel, unable to leave in case they missed something. Three days.

"This is a punishment isn't it?" She said flatly, and Clint looked up from where he was shooting at his target. She wasn't allowed to shoot her guns. Too noisy. Well fuck that.

"If I'd known they'd have done this to us, I would have killed you."

"Fuck off," She threw a pillow at his head, and he shot it out of the air. "Fuck you."

"Not without taking you out to dinner first," He smiled at her, and she threw another pillow at him, and she shot it again.

"Teach me how to do that," She sat next to him and he shrugged.

"Sure, but you have to promise me one thing."  
"What?" She sighed.  
"Not to fall in love with me," He snorted at his own joke, and she groaned and lay on the floor.

"Jesus kill me now." She kicked him lightly and sat up. "So teach me."

He gave her the bow, and pointed her in the direction of the pillow pinned on to the wall. "Okay, so hold it like, no that's wrong."  
"Clint. Not helpful."

"Well, move your hands like, no, what are you..."

"_Clint," _This was a bad idea.

"Okay, so," He wrapped his arms around her and moved her hands and her fingers into posistion, "Try to aim slightly higher than the target."  
"Uh huh," She focused.

"Now, pull back the string." His hands moved on hers, and pulled the string far back, "And release," He whispered, and she let go. He carried on holding the string.

"You fucked up," She turned around to look at him, and she laughed, and Clint kissed her. She kissed him back, dropping the bow and cupping his face in her hands, his hands ran through her fiery hair, and she felt like she was burning. She was on fire, and she carried on kissing, loving the release it gave her.

"_Fury will not hesitate to kill Barton." _Coulson had said, his grey eyes fixed on hers, his expression serious.

She pulled away, "No," She whispered, and stood up and moved away.

"Natasha?" He asked, and she looked away.

"That didn't happen." She said, and took the arrow out of the wall.  
"Why?" All expression had left his face.

"It's unprofessional Barton. We're a team, it could never work." _Because if I fuck up he'll kill you, the closer we are the more likely he'll kill you. Oh Clint, I'm sorry. _

"I understand," He wiped his mouth, and looked out the window. She wanted to hold him, but instead folded her arms. "What happens in Budapest will stay in Budapest."  
"Exactly," She smiled in a forced manner. "Our first professional mission. Lets keep it that way."  
"Boring?" He asked, and she smiled.

"Exactly."


	10. But I can't

Clint aimed at the target, but before he could let the arrow fly, a bullet flew passed his ear and hit the bullseye.

"Overly dramatic way of saying hello." He shot the arrow any way, and he heard Natasha sigh.

"This coming from the guy who has been sulking for three days."  
"I'm not sulking," He sulked, and shot five consecutive arrows.

"Clint," She walked up to him, and lowered his bow so that he had to leook at her. "You know I'm right,"  
_But you're so totally wrong, _"I do, look it's okay, I'm not sulking, just thinking."  
"About what?" She smiled, and she looked so pretty. She was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and looked so innocent. He knew for a fact her holster was hidden underneath, and that she could shoot him dead in 0.5 seconds. She practised.

"Stuff," She let go off the bow and he shot another arrow.

"Jesus you're such a teenager Clint," She punched him lightly, and he pointed the arrow at her head, and she ducked and kicked out his feet. "What you thinking about buddy?"  
"Please don't say the word buddy," He groaned, and she laughed as she pulled him up. "I was wondering what your real name is," She froze, only for half a second, but he saw it on her face.

"You know my name," She smiled, and he shook his head.

"Natasha Romanoff is not your name. Romanoff is a male surname for Russia. I'm not entirely stupid."  
"You could have fooled me," She was itching to grab her guns, and he picked up his bow from where he had dropped it.  
"It's fine Nat, I was just thinking that's all."  
"Don't then." She flicked back her hair. And removed her jumper, and threw it with accuracy into the corner. Underneath she was in a tight vest top, and she was no longer Nat, she was Black Widow.

"Nat..." He started, and she started firing rounds loudly at the target. "Jesus now who's being a teenager?"  
"Back off Clint," She reloaded and glared at him.

"You're being unreasonable," He collected his arrows, and she fired to the right of his foot. "I was just talking, I should have left you in Russia."  
"Maybe you should," She shot at the target again and again, "Then I wouldn't have to deal with you."  
"Why are you being a hormonal bitch?" He yelled, and she shot to the left of his head as he stormed out. "We shouldn't fucking work together, if we can go from friends to enemies in a second."

"Maybe we shouldn't then." She turned to face him. "What the fuck is wrong with me Clint?"  
He wanted to stay, but instead he said, "I'll do the next mission alone," and stormed out. Natasha watched him go with something that felt like despair, and pushed her emotions deep down. _The problem with that was that the emotions would always escape at the worst time,_she thought, but she didn't want to feel any more. She started shooting again.

"There's nothing wrong with me," She whispered, and the bullets fell like tears.


	11. I wish

Natasha was alone in her room, where she'd been ever since Clint had left for his mission. She didn't know what had happened, and she wasn't one to apologise. It was probably her fault, but...

Fuck. Here she was again. Fucking it up.

She heard noises outside her room, and she looked to the door. People were running, which, in a highly important government facility, wasn't that unusual. But then she heard voices.

"Tell her," Agent Bromely, otherwise known as a colossal bitch.

"She won't want to know." The hurried footsteps carried on, and she opened the door.  
"What's happening?" She asked, and they carried on walking. "What's happening?" She yelled, and they turned around.

"Nothing concerning you." Agent Bromely smiled.

"What's happening?" She asked again, her voice steely. "I am part of this organisation I have a _right to know."  
_"You're a traitor, and a spy." Agent Bromely replied. "You have no rights."  
"It's Barton." The girl next to her said, pity in her blue eyes. She was pretty, with dark brown hair, and obviously fairly new. "He was compromised."  
She felt the world collapse. "No," She shook her head. "Where is he?"

"Cubical Five, sanatorium." The agent said again. And Natasha started running.

They wouldn't let her in.  
"He's in a critical position Agent," They kept saying.  
"You don't understand," She kept yelling, "The last thing he said, the last thing he said," She wouldn't cry, but she was crippled by guilt. She let the guards force her back to her room.

"We'll tell you if anything changes," They smiled, and she slammed on the door that they locked. She was alone, and she was miserable. She curled up on her bed with her gun, and her breaths came in shuddery gasps. She took deep breaths, and held her head with her hands. She heard the lock click, and whirled around with her gun pointed at the door. The Agent from earlier on stepped in. She was dressed in her dark blue SHIELD uniform, and had her arms crossed across her chest.

"Did you see him?" She asked, and Natasha kept the gun up.

"They didn't let me in." She replied. She must look like a crazy woman, her eyes red, her hair messed up, the gun.

"I..." She looked at the door nervously, "I could get you in."

Natasha was on her feet before she had time to properly register her words. "You could."  
She nodded, and took a deep breath, "We need to go now though."

"You could get me in so much trouble," She walked hurriedly down the corridors, checking the corners, "So I won't say my name,"

Natasha nodded absent-mindedly, "Why can't I see him?" She asked, "Why would you be in trouble?" The agent paused and turned around.

"Because... Nobody really trusts you yet and they're worried that if you see Agent Barton in such a bad condition you might... Flip."

"They think I might turn against them."  
"Yes. Agent Barton is our only bargaining tool against you. Sorry."

"It's fine," She nodded, "Carry on." _I'm on your team, fucking trust me._

They reached the door way on the sanatorium, and the woman walked forward.

"Romanoff's escaped," She said, and the guards leaned forward, "Check the corridors." They obeyed her, seemingly forgetting that they were literally in a building of highly trained killers who could probably do a better job than them. Natasha hurried forward, and the girl swiped her ID.  
"Good luck, cubical..."  
"Five," Natasha wanted to say thank you, but she needed to see Clint. She shut the door behind her, and hurried down the small corridor, ducking into cubical five.

It was worse than she thought. He had around ten lines coming out of him, and his heart rate was slow on the machine. She walked over slowly and touched his hand.  
"Clint?" She said quietly, and sat down on the bed. He was covered in bandages and cuts, "I'm here. Nat. Nat... Romanova. Your friend."

There wasn't a response, and she curled up next to him on the bed. Her hand on his chest, and the other on his pulse. "I'll be here, if you want me." She whispered. And let sleep take her.


	12. That you would be here

Coulson was woken up in the middle of the night by the doctor.

"What?" He asked blearily, and they showed him the photo. Natasha Romanoff was curled on Clints hospital bed, a hand wrapped around her gun, and the other on his chest.

"Give me two minutes," He sighed.

He walked into the room with Maria Hill, his trainee, and stopped still. Romanoff was on the bed with Clint.

"How did she get in?" He sighed, and Maria looked at the ground.

"I don't know sir." She mumbled.

He rubbed his forehead, "I won't tell Fury if you don't tell Fury,"  
She smiled, "Thank you Sir. Sorry sir."  
He smiled back at her, "You are shouldn't take matters into your own hands Hill."  
"I know Sir, but I think I made the right decision."  
"Yes," He looked at the master assasin, curled up with a killer, "Yes. You did. Give orders that she is not to be disturbed, unless it goes against Clint's personal health."  
She nodded, "Yes sir," And she turned to go, until he grabbed her arm.

"Agent Hill?"  
"Yes Sir?"  
"If you are ever going to smuggle a spy into a hospital, please get me to approve it first."  
She smiled, "I'll tell the Doctors your orders sir."

Natasha woke up on Clints bed, and immediately pointed her gun at the figure in the corner of the room.

"I'm checking up on his pulse," The nurse whispered, hands in the air, and she nodded, and lowered the gun.

"Habit," She said, as a way of an excuse. _Not a bad one though. _She grabbed Clints wrist and checked his pulse.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

"Medically Induced Coma. Internal bleeding." Natasha nodded. She understood.

"It's bad." She stated the obvious.

The nurse nodded, "There are fears that he could might not wake up." He glanced cautiously at her for a response, but her face was like marble, unreadable.

"Thank you." The nurse nodded, and left the room.

"Wake up Clint," Natasha whispered, and her hand hovered by his, before she removed it, and placed it on her lap.

One day. Two days. Three days. The Doctors removed him from his coma, but he didn't wake up.

"Do this for me Clint," She whispered.

Four days. Five. Six. She only left the room to go to the bathroom. Agent Hill, the agent who had let her in, brought her meals. She slept either on the bed with him, or on the chair next to his bed. She was exhausted. Doctors would work around the assassin, asleep, holding his hand. She didn't eat much.

Seven days. Eight. She looked like death, and Clint looked worse. He was pale, and the Doctors were starting to worry. They were starting to give up hope.

"Do this for me you fucker," She whispered. She swear she saw his hand move.

_There was a beeping, and he was lost. He heard voices, as if he was underwater. He didn't understand, he couldn't move. Through the fog, came a voice he recognised. _

"Clint,"

_**I know you,**__ he thought, but then he slipped away. _

_Still beeping, what was it? He couldn't open his eyes. He felt a hand in his, and somebody breathing strangely. If he didn't know better, it sounded like somebody was crying._

_Stop the beeping. It was everywhere. The hand was still in his. Voices, but it was foggy still. He was so tired. _

_His head felt clearer than it had in days, The hand was still on his. He tried to move it, but wasn't sure if it worked. __**I'm trying, **__he thought desperately, as he felt himself slipping. __**I'm trying to get to you. **_

"Do this for me you fucker,"

_**I promise...**_

Clint Barton gasped and opened his eyes, and his vision was immediately obscured by a girls face.

"You came back," She smiled, and stepped back. "Your not dead."  
He tried to talk, but no sound came out, and the girl pressed a button. A doctor came running in, and all he could focus on was the girls face.

The next time he woke up, he was a lot clearer.

"Nat," He croaked, and she was there.

"Take it easy," She dripped some water on to his lips, "You've been in a coma."  
"How long?" He rasped.

She looked down. She looked terrible, but at that moment, there was nobody he'd rather see. "A medically induced coma for three days. They needed to get some fluids into you. A remove the bullets."  
"Then?" Talking was easier.

"A coma for ten days." She looked as if she was going to touch his face, but moved away. "They weren't sure if you were going to wake up."  
"Fuck," He felt exhausted already, but he wanted to say something. "Nat?"  
"Yes?"  
"If I ever get to the stage when I won't wake up?" He voice was disappearing, "Shoot me."  
"I promise," She held his hand, "Do the same for me."

He fell back into sleep.


	13. I let you down

_**Eleven years later. **_

"Whats my mission Director?" Natasha asked as she let herself into the room.

"Remember Budapest?" Fury asked, and she sighed.

"The most boring mission I have ever been on, yes." She left out the, other, part.

"The man who's movements you were tracking, we need you to get him."  
"Get? Him?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean. I want information from his mouth. He's big."  
"When do we leave?" She asked, and Fury sighed.

"We? Natasha, this is a solo mission."  
She froze. "I am not going to leave Clint." She realized that she had her hand on her gun, and she moved it away slowly, "Not again Fury."  
"Natasha," He sighed, and she shook her head.

"I know you have a mission for him lined up as soon as I get out the way, but if you want me to do this you _have _to promise me you won't let him get in danger."  
"You are _not _his carer Romanoff." Fury slammed his hand on the desk, and she glared at him.

"I owe him Fury and you know that. I am not letting him leave when I am not there to protect him."  
"Protect him how? Take a bullet for him."  
"Yes." She said it without thinking. "If you think I am letting him go without me then you are _wrong._"

"Romanoff, you can't refuse to let anything bad happen to you first."  
"_Clint is a better person than I will ever be Fury._" She hissed, "_I am not going to let him die if I could stop him_."  
"You can't keep wanting to take the bullet."  
"I _deserve_ to die Fury," She was desperate, "Clint doesn't. You are not letting him go."  
"Fine," He snapped. "I'll cage the hawk if it keeps you happy."  
"It _does," _She felt so relieved. "Thank you."  
Fury glared at her, "Hill?"  
"Yes sir?" Maria stepped forward and smiled at her.

"Brief her. I need to yell at another fucking person who has sense." He stormed out, and Natasha sagged back into a chair.

"You can't blame yourself for something that happened ten years ago." Maria flicked through the folder, and brought it up on the screen.  
"Make sure Clint's safe when I'm gone." Natasha ignored her comment.

"I'll put him on tesseract guarding," She sighed, "Jesus if I'd known what I was getting into when I smuggled you in."

"You can't pull me out of this right now," She growled into the phone. Fucking Coulson. She was in the middle of the mission, and she was getting all the information Fury wanted. Fuck sake.

"Natasha, Barton's been compromised." He sounded regretful, and she took a shuddery breath.

_I fucked up. I let him down. Fuck. Clint I'm so sorry._

"Can I put you on hold?" Her voice sounded calm, but she was furious at herself. She had fucked up and let him down.


	14. I love you

The Avengers all slept in different ways. Bruce would fall asleep for up to two days after hulking out, sprawled on the floor. Tony, covered in oil from his latest inventions, would sleep in a starfish, wherever he fell. Steve would be stiff and straight, used to sharing small beds with Bucky. Clint, would be sitting up, a hand on his bow. Natasha would be all soft angles, innocent and beautiful, curled up like a cat one hand on Clint, the other, hidden under her pillow, on her gun.

But things were different now. Clint would twitch in his sleep, and she would pretend not to notice when he shook. One night, the night before a mission, he woke her up again, shaking, and his breathing was hitched.  
"Clint," She whispered, and she grabbed his shoulders, "Clint,"  
He woke up, and for a second his eyes seemed to glow a brilliant tesseract blue. "Nat," He whispered, and she held him close to her.  
"It's okay," She whispered, he clenched and unclenched his hands, holding on to her for his life, "It's going to be okay."

"He's still in my head," He whispered, and she nodded.

"Maybe we should take a walk,"

They sat on the roof, and they looked at the stars.

"I can feel him when I sleep," He confessed, not looking at her, "It's like there are pieces of him, inside my mind."  
"I know," She looked at him, bright against the moon, and looked away. "After I found out that... I was an experiment, I couldn't believe anything. It's like, I killed those people, and I didn't have a choice. If it had been me hunting you, you would have died," She thought about Clint, strapped to the bed, trying to find him amongst Loki. She thought of the memories he didn't have, of her kissing him. She thought about the three words she whispered, when there was just her and an empty body.  
"I became a monster," He ran a hand through his hair, "I can't get it out of my brain."  
"I am a monster," They were the thoughts that had haunted her. "I can't get that out of my body, it's how I'm programmed."  
"Don't think like that," He slammed his hand down, "There is nothing wrong with you."  
"You don't understand," She looked away, and he grabbed her.  
"Natasha, you are the girl who refused to let two trained agents helped you when Bruce attacked because you didn't want them to get hurt. You are the girl who would run into a burning building to save one person. You refused to leave my room when I was in a coma, and I am in love with you. If you don't love me back, fine, but if you are refusing to love me because you don't think you deserve to be loved then fuck you,"

"Clint," She whispered.

"You think you're broken, but you're not Natasha," he cupped her face, "Not to me. Never to me."  
She kissed him, and was lost in his arms. He ran his hands down her back and she crawled closer to him, her hands on the back of his head, until she was sitting virtually on him.  
"Natalia," She whispered, and he paused.

"What?"  
"Natalia Romanova," She touched his lips, "My name." 

Natasha had always felt broken, but that night, under the stars, she felt whole.


	15. I've got you

"_We've got to go team," Captain was up first, and Natasha and Clint quickly removed their hands and sat up. "The target may be dangerous. We got to swoop in, grab him, and run."  
They nodded, and Natasha rubbed a hand through his hair. _

"_Banner?" She asked, and he turned around._

"_Natasha?" He pushed up his glasses._

"_Make sure mission control takes care of Clint."  
"He'll be fine," He smiled, "I'm not sure why they sent in the avengers. It's a very easy job."_

She was charging up the stairs with Clint on her heels, her breath coming in gasps.

"Duck!" She yelled, and shot the man following them in the head. They burst on to the roof where just a few hours ago he had said he loved her.

_They were just about to leave, when Clint grabbed her arm._

"_Be careful out there Nat," He whispered, out of view of the other Avengers._

_She kissed him lightly on the lips, "I will," She touched his cheek, "I promise. It will be fine."_

"_You're sure?" He asked, and she punched him.  
"No acting like couple until this over okay?"  
"Okay," He sighed, "Nat, if this goes wrong..."  
"It won't."  
"But if it does, I want you too know that I love you."_

"Where's Thor?" She asked, and she shot the man aiming his gun at him, "This was a set up Clint."

He nodded, "I know," He shot arrows off as fast as he could. "What's our extraction plan?"

_"I know," She smiled, and kissed him again, and leaned away as Steve came back.  
"Come on guys," He sighed, "Got to go."_

"_We were just discussing the extraction plan." Clint shrugged._

"_What's the extraction plan?" Steve asked, and Natasha smiled._

"_Fuck all."  
_  
"When have we ever had an extraction plan?" She asked, "We go in, we fuck up, we run."  
Arrows were flying, and they heard Hulk roaring.

"We can do this," She shurgged, "WE defeated the Chitauri."  
She sensed movement and whirled around, punching her assailent in the face, then slamming the butt of her gun into his nose, kicking up her feet she knocked him down, and sent him skittering towards the rooftop.

"_I love you," Clint mouthed as they headed out, and she made a face._

He grabbed Clints ankle, and sent him off balance, tumbling over the edge. Natasha fell in slow motion.

_Natalia was falling, guns in the air, her red hair billowing like a cloud of fire and blood. _

"I got you," She had Clint's wrist in her hand, and she pushed back against the roof, "I got you."

_They found him unconcious, a lipstick stain on his cheek._

__The man shot her, but missed, hitting her shoulder. She spasmed in pain, and her body reflexively released Clint.

_Natalia was falling, guns in the air, her red hair billowing like a cloud of fire and blood. _

Clint was falling, she reached out for him, a hoarse scream of pain escaping from her throat.

_They found him unconcious, a lipstick mark on his cheek. _

Agent Clint Barton crumpled on the pavement, with a sickening crack.


	16. Chapter 16

There was an empty space on the SHEILD Helicarrier. Natasha Romanoff had vanished, disapperead out of the hospital, and Clint Barton was...

Agent Clint Barton was dead.

They had cremated him, and nobody knew what to do with the ashes. The urn was put in Natasha's old room, and the door was sealed. It seemed right.

The Avengers were broken. Steve was a shell, Hulk had destroyed half the town leaving Bruce desolate, Thor was so angry, and Tony threw himself into creating, but they all ended up as arrows and bows, which nobody would ever be able to use.

Maria wandered the halls, and froze, to see a girl turn around, her red hair shining in the artificial light.  
"I can't get in," She whispered, and Maria hugged her and cried.

"You can't go," She sobbed, "Fuck you," She straightened up, "How dare you Natasha, how dare you!" She was angry.

"I loved him Maria," Natasha replied to one of her only friends. "I loved him, and I killed him."  
"You didn't," She whispered, "Natasha you didn't."  
"I need to get to him," Natasha turned to the door, "Open it Maria. For me."  
The last meeting of Hill and Romanoff was like the first, Natasha needing to get to Clint, and Maria nothing but a tool.

"Hello stranger," Bruce turned to see Natasha standing silently next to him as he gazed down at the Thames.  
"What?" He asked, "You come back now?"  
"It's been hard trying to find you Doctor Banner. The science world are missing your discoveries."  
They hugged, "You're not coming back," He said after a pause, and she shook her head.  
"No." They looked at the water for a while, and she slipped away.

"Never thought I'd see you like this," Thor looked up from the couch to see Natasha looking at him.

"You've returned?" He got to his feet, and picked her up.  
"No," She was carefully put down on the sofa with him, "I came to say goodbye to everybody, I'm going off the map."  
He nodded, "You can not run from your problems I fear, although I seem to have done the same thing." He put his hand on her face. "Be safe,"  
"I will," She smiled sadly, "Give Jane my love." 

"Stark," Tony turned.

"Natashlie?"  
"Don't call me that," She smiled, "I only came to say goodbye."  
"Really?"  
"Goodbye Stark."  
"Goodbye, Natasha. It's been good being your team mate."  
"You too, Tony." They looked at each other and hugged tightly, before she walked off.

"Steve," Her voice broke as she looked at her best friend.

"Natasha?" He asked, and he looked excited, happy, then angry, "How dare you leave?"  
"I couldn't stay,"  
"He was your partner, you left him."  
"I loved him." She whispered, and he held her small body which could kill him.

"I know, we all knew," He stroked her firey hair.  
"I needed more time, he didn't deserve to die,"  
"But neither did you," He looked at her, "Don't ever think that you dying instead of Clint would have been okay, because it really isn't."  
"You don't know what I've done Steve,"  
"I know enough,"  
They held onto each other, both so broken. "You going to say goodbye to him next."  
It wasn't a question, and she didn't answer it, "Goodbye Cap," Her voice broke again.  
"This will pass, the pain, I promise."  
She didn't believe him.

Natasha sat with Clint at the end of a pier, where the sea splashed her and whipped her hair across her face. She didn't look at the urn.

"Hawkeye," She started, "Barton, Clint. My team, my friend," She took a deep breath, "My fault. I'm sorry, I'm grateful, and I need you, but I can't..." She couldn't finish. Fuck. She had prepared this. "I wish that you would be here. I let you down. I love you. I've got you Clint. Goodbye,"  
She opened the urn and tilted the ashes into the sea, where they skimmed the waves before disappearing.

**Okay, so I finally managed to write this. Notice anything about the chapters and the last paragraph? PM me if you do, or review. Please review, and leave a message for what I should do next, I am stuck for ideas! WriteandPrint x**


	17. Chapter 17

Five Years Later

"Okay team, lets go" Steve sighed. He was tired all the time now, and if not for the serum, he would be a dead, decrepit old man, "Simple job, go in, grab hostages, get out. Quicksilver?"  
"Uh huh?" Pietro grinned, and jabbed his sister in the ribs and she yelped.

"Scout for information and be on watch. Have you got your gun?"  
"No, I left it on the nightstand along with my glasses and false teeth," He rolled his eyes.  
"Hey," Scarlet Witch, AKA Wanda, admonished him, "No Steve-is-really-old jokes. His pacer might go."

"Very funny," He rolled his eyes. Once he might have laughed with them, but not now, especially not today. It had been exactly five years, he didn't want to be here. He wanted to be at home, and punch something until he could finally get over the pain inside him. He had lost friends before, but it still hurt. He needed to mourn, and he couldn't. He was stuck here with a bunch of rookies and _the terrible twins. _

"Get your gear together, we're going in," He picked up his sheild. "No heroics. No, this was certainly not the time for heroes, when the best of them all had been dead for five years.

Steve nodded, and broke the lock with his sheild, and Wanda fired a hex at the guard behind it. Quicksilver ran in, disappearing. Steve and Wanda moved in, and Steve swung his shield at another guard, while Wanda fired off another hex. They moved silently threw the building, most of the guarsd having been shot by Pietro. They moved up the stairs, and Steve heard the hiss before she did, and threw her to the ground, and crouched over her, his sheild over each of them. The grenade bounced off, and everything went to absolute shit.

"Run," He screamed, as she yelled,

"Pietro!"  
"Get out of here," He pulled her back, under the sheild as the explosion echoed around them. "You get the hostages, I'll get Quicksilver,"  
"He is _my _brother," She protested, and Steve threw his sheild, only to knock Pietro over.  
"Fuck," He yelled, and climbed shakily to his feet, only to fall over again. "Fuck,"

Wanda ran to him, and lifted him to his feet, and he leant heavily on her.  
"Where are the others?" She asked, and Steve swtiched on the coms.

"Team 2 over," He yelled, "Team 2, do you receive, over?" The communication crackeled, and Steve shook his head. "Who threw the grenade?" He mouthed at Wanda, and she shrugged, then took a step forward, and placed a hand on his cheek.

"I am so sorry Steve," She began to glow, "They said that we could get to Dad,"  
"What?" He asked, the froze, "Wanda, Wanda no."

Pietro looked regretful,

"There were never any hostages." Steve realised, "What about team two?"  
"They're all dead Steve,"  
"Don't call me that," He pushed her away, and shot her in the stomach, as Pietro pulled the trigger on his gun, and Wanda fired a hex. Steve collapsed, and heard Wanda crying, but the bullet and the hex were stopping his heart.

"_Steve?" A voice swam through the darkness, and he felt himself being slapped, "Steve do you hear me?"  
He opened his eyes, "Natasha," He smiled, and she was crouching over him, worry etched over her face. _

"_Steve, operatives are on their way," She stepped away, and her hair turned dark, and she shrank in size, and her face became softer._

"_Peggy?" He asked, "Peggy you're here? Am I dead?"  
"Steve," And Peggy spoke in Natasha and Peggy's voices, before morphing into Bucky, _

"_You didn't see me," Bucky glared down at him, as The Winter Soldier, before morphing into his Bucky. "I'm with you,"  
"Until the end of the line," Steve muttered, and then he was surrounded, by Clint, Natasha, Peggy, Bucky, his Mother. They were all there, and one by one they faded away, leaving multiple Natasha's in their place, who in turn all faded into the darkness._


	18. Chapter 18

"Captain Rogers? Do you hear us?"  
Steve nodded, his throat dry, and opened his eyes. The lights were blinding him, so he shut them again.

"Do you want a drink Captain?" He nodded again, and felt the cool water trickling down his throat.

"Thank you," He rasped, and opened his eyes again, blinking heavily. Maria Hill moved from the corner and slouched in the bedside chair.

"What happened?"  
"Wan... Scarlet Witch. Quicksilver. It was a betrayal. They said something about their Dad?"  
"Magneto?" She asked, "But he's held within government..." She typed out a message, _INFILTRATION, _and quickly showed him, before hiding it. "Okay, so they turn on you, reveal their plan, exact words later, then what?"  
"I shot her in the stomach, and Piet... Quicksilver shot me, and Scarlet Witch hexed me."  
"Lucky to be alive," She wrote down notes on her i-pad, "Then what?"  
"I passed out, and started hallucinating,"  
"Really? That's all?"  
"Why?"

"Steve," She crossed her legs, "You were found outside with a dying Scarlett Witch, and a knocked out Quicksilver. Somebody had done emergency field care on you. What did you hallucinate?"  
"Peggy, Natasha, Bucky, my Mom," He sighed, "The usual."  
Her voice softened, "Steve,"

He shook his head, "Who's coming for the party?" He asked.  
"We will find that out," She smiled, "I'm telling you now, if you remember anything useful, tell me. I need to talk to Director Fury," She stood up, "Thank you for the information," She left, and opened the door for the nurse, who smiled timidly at him.  
"Are you's feeling all right?" She asked in a heavy southern accent, "I hear you had a mighty tumble,"  
Steve nodded, "I'm fine, thank you,"  
"Ain't that great," She grinned, her red lipstick bringing out her blonde hair, "I heard about a party?"

"Yeah?" He sighed, "I need to sleep,"

"Great," She smiled, "May I just take your temperature?" She leaned in towards him, so the bullet hit her back. She crumpled and screamed, and Steve grabbed his shield and held it over the two of them, his other hand pressed on her wound.

"Ma'am?" He asked,

"Get to Maria," She yelled, her voice distorted in pain. She was an agent, she would die for her country. "Go!"

Steve ran, and slammed the fire alarm, people hadn't heard the bullets, and they turned to him.  
"Intruders," He yelled, "Get Hill!"  
The Doctors immediately ran into cubicles, and soon patients were being wheeled out and evacuated. Steve ran down the corridor, and leapt down the stairwell, and carried on running. Alarms were ringing, and he saw a dark figure at the end of the corridor, and he threw his shield, only for them to duck, roll, and grab the shield. They turned to look at him, a black hood over their hair, and a black scarf around their face. Only their eyes were visible, glittering green. They threw the shield back, and ran on down the corridors. He followed, slowly catching up, until they swung round and wrapped their thighs around his neck, and forced him to the ground.

"Hill is on floor 18," A girls voice growled, a knife at his throat, "Leave me alone," She got up, just as a man ran around the corner, and he aimed a gun at Steve.  
"America," He growled, and the girl shot him.

"Get to Maria," She reloaded her gun and threw it at him, "You'll need more than a shield."

She ran away, and he thought quickly. Maria could wait, he needed to find out the threat of the girl first. Maria would be fine.

_Maria opened the door to her office to see six men inside waiting for her. She reached for her gun but somebody twisted her arm behind her back, and a noose was wrapped around her neck. She screamed for help. _

Steve chased after the intruder, but when he turned the corridor she had already vanished. There were three doors, each of them locked. He knew the codes, but she couldn't possibly. And there was nowhere else to go than... Up. He looked up. No vents. Whoever it was, they had a lot of information about SHEILD. He had to follow her. He smashed the handle of the door with the SHIELD, and it swung open, and was immediately shot at. He peeked around the shield to see a crying scientist pointing a gun.

"I didn't realise it was you," She looked terrified, "What's happening? She told me to stay here, and she gave me a gun, and said to use it,"  
"Who's she?" He asked, and helped her barricade the door.

She looked at him as if he was stupid, "Black Widow,"

He ran. He ran after her so fast, he had to find her. It all made sense, she pinned him down with her signature move after all. He ran faster than was safe, he didn't even check around corners for soldiers. Then he saw her, at the end of the corridor. She'd left a trail of incapacitated soldiers in her wake, and she was heading towards the DataBase. You needed supreme clearance to get in, and if anybody could hack it, they would have more information than they could possibly deal with. He threw his shield at an agent running towards her, gun out, and he fell. She turned to him, and for a second he forgot everything. He could only see her hair, a burning brilliant red, and her green eyes were angry. She swung her leg around and kicked an approaching agent in the head, before throwing a widows bite at him and sliding under his legs. She landed by Steve's shield, and picked it up, holding it in her hands, before looking up at Steve. He looked into her eyes, and he felt completely fine. Her lips were slightly parted and her hair was messy, and it was like seeing your sister after five years.

The moment passed, and she swung the shield round to knock out the last agent, before tuning back to him.

"Why are you here?" She yelled, barging up to him and shoving the shield into his arms. "I told you to go to Maria,"  
"I couldn't leave a threat running around, could I?" He yelled in retaliation.

"It was obvious I wasn't a threat Steve," She rolled her eyes, "You were just being thick," She stalked off and he followed her, wondering how he could possibly hate a person so much.

"What are you doing here Natasha?" He asked, and she looked at him.

"I've 'been here'" She did air quotations around the words, "For the last six months Steve. Something was up with SHEILD, little mini group forming, called ASK, Annihilating Supreme Klans. A bunch of racist, homophobic asshats, who also hate superheroes. They are after you, Fury, Maria, Tony, me, and see Thor as a kind of a god."  
"He is,"

She looked at him, "Steve, I can't stay, I came in here to help, but I'm going to disappear on you again, and I don't think you can take that."

He grabbed her arm, "You can't disappear again," He was desperate, "Natasha you can't. We're a team." He paused, "Did you follow me on missions?" He asked.  
"We'll talk about it later," She brushed him off, and they reached the DataBase. There was an armed guard outside it, and she grabbed his neck.

"Ow!" He yelled, and his comrades ran around the corner.

"It's Captain America," One yelled, and they relaxed slightly.

"He's clear," Natasha stepped back, and pressed something into the man's hand, and whispered to him, and he nodded. "We need to find Hill." 

They ran up the stairs to floor 18, Natasha checking her phone.

"She's in Room 120," She informed him, showing him the screen. There were several flashing dots.

"Have you fitted us with trackers?" He suddenly felt very exposed.

She rolled her eyes, "Of course I have, how did you think I found you when the building was burning down in Bangladesh?"  
He hadn't really wanted to know.

They burst through the door together, guns out, shield raised, to find Maria's body hung from the ceiling, and blood pouring from her stomach. Natasha cut the rope and grabbed her, and held her body close to her, checking her nonexistant pulse, holding on tightly.

"Maria," She whispered, "Maria," She turned to Steve, tears in her eyes, her voice emotionless.

"We have to go." She closed Maria's eyes with her hand, "That soldier is going to blow the whole place up."

"What?" He asked, and she tenderly lay Maria's body on the floor. "Everybody will die,"

She looked up at him, "You don't understand the magnitude of ASK, they have infiltrated SHIELD more than Hydra ever did."  
"How?" He asked, and he pulled her away from Maria, and she lost it. She turned on him, screaming, scratching and kicking. She normally fought like a panther, stealthy and deadly, but now she was wild, she scratched his face, and when he held her arms to her sides she kicked and bit, And all the while she was screaming at him.

"This is your fault," She yelled, "This is all your fault."  
"We have to go," He yelled in retaliation, and she pulled sharply away from him.

"I'm never going anywhere with you," She wasn't angry, she hated him, she blamed him, and he let her go. He would always let her go.

She was so angry. She hated him. She was covered in her best friends blood, and she hated him. She left the room, and broke into a run, she didn't care if it blew up, she wanted to save everybody, but Maria was dead. She wasn't on form, and she didn't notice the guy with the knife until too late. He leapt onto her back and stabbed her back, her legs, her arms, repeatedly, the pain was blinding. She might have screamed, but in that moment, for the first time in five years, Natasha Romanoff did not want to die. She might have heard a fight as she slipped out of consciousness, but she was aware of Steve's arms around her. She hated him, but he was there.

**A/N So sorry for long gap between updates, and a frankly stupidly long chapter here. Originally the story was supposed to end after Clint's death, but lets face it, Natasha would not let that stop her. Introducing a new plot revolving around her identity now that she hasn't got anybody that she 100% relies on, and maybe some Bucky *eyebrow wiggles* Please follow and review x**


	19. Chapter 19

When she came too, it was too Steve's worried face. She itched to slap him, but instead she raised an eyebrow.

"Go away," She croaked,

"She's good," Another voice came from the corner, and Sam Wilson patted her head, "There there. Get better."  
"If it isn't my second favourite bird man." She closed her eyes, her head hurt, "How you been doing buddy?"  
"Just flying around really,"  
She winced, and it wasn't the bad pun, "I'm fine," She smiled, and sat up, her body screaming, "I am totally great actually, just need my lippy,"  
"Steve," Sam looked over at Steve, and Steve nodded.

"Lie down Natasha," He ordered, and she flipped him off.

"I have to go," She rolled her eyes, "Give me my guns, some clothes, and I'll be off,"

"Natasha, you should lie down," Sam said nervously.

"I thought you would be on my side," She shot him a glare.

"I _am," _he rolled his eyes, "I'm on the side of you hopefully, you know, _not _dying?"

"Well, isn't good that I am not going to die?"  
"I am not letting you out of my sight," Steve intervened, "Even if I have to drug you,"

"You wouldn't," She narrowed her eyes, "You wouldn't,"

"I would," Steve stared down at her, and Sam sighed

"You two a just self defuckingstructive, you know that?" Steve left, and Sam sat by the assassin, "He does this to protect you, you know?"  
"I don't need his protection," She said scathingly,

"And he didn't need yours. You still followed him on missions."  
"For his own good," She checked her wounds, and winced, "And he did need me, didn't he? When Scarlet Witch turned on him,"

"And one day, you are going to need him, are you okay?" Natasha had just let a moan of pain escape, and she screwed up her face.

"It just hurts," She winced again,  
"You want some morphine?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"I don't allow drugs into my system, in case, well, in case somebody isn't going to be as nice,"  
"Has that ever happened?" he asked, and she looked away,

"I would prefer to not talk about that," She smiled bitterly, "But it was somebody I trusted."

Just then, the door opened, and Sam looked up nervously, "Um hey, and before you both freak out, we have a guest,"  
"A what?" Natasha asked, and spun around, at the same time as the guy by the door reached for a weapon.

"James?" She asked, and his eyes flicked nervously to the door.

"You told her about me?" He asked, and Sam shook his head,

"Um, no, if you're looking for Steve..."  
"What is he doing here?" She asked harshly,

"Who is she?" Bucky asked,

"Why is he here?" Natasha yelled,

"There are too many questions!" Sam yelled, "She is Natasha Romanoff, he is Steves BFF or whatever, and he's been here for a month!"  
"And you didn't tell me?"

"You weren't here! You were a ghost! We didn't even know if you were alive!"

She shook back her hair, and glared at Bucky, "I don't want to be in the same room as him." She hobbled to her feet, wincing slightly with the pain, and stalked out the room.

She was found later by Steve, who looked angry.  
"He was brainwashed when he attacked you Natasha," He wasn't angry, he was disappointed. Jesus.

"You don't know the half of it Steve," She applied a clean bandage to her leg and winced.

"What don't I know?" He asked, "You have to tell me,"  
"I don't _have _to tell you anything," She glared at him, "Maria Hill is dead,"  
"I know,"

"And it's all your fault,"  
"I know," He sat down beside her on the bed, "I _know _Natasha, okay?" He buried his head in his hands. "Please don't do this to me, okay? You are my best friend,"  
Natasha looked at him, and decided to do the one thing that would make him hate her. "I had sex with James," She said, and he looked up.

"What?" He asked.

"Before I knew you, before I worked for SHEILD, I had sex with James."  
He was trying to take the information in, "So, you knew? That he was alive?"  
"How would that help? He was a mindless machine,"  
Steve took a step away from her, "How dare you," He shook his head, "Why would you, how could you?"  
"I moved on with my life," She whispered, almost angrily, "He was taken away and I thought they killed him,"

"Really?" He asked, "What about in 2014, when he attacked,"  
"It wasn't important,"

"I think you should go," He said quietly, and she left.

**A/N The story will be more Natasha focused, and I like to thank you all for reviews and some great ideas! Updates are taking a while as I am caught in the middle of a lot of major drama and friendship issues, and to be honest just need a hug. Will be updating regularly as soon as I manage to get my shit together, I promise xxx** **(Oh and Bucky will be a bigger part)**


	20. Chapter 20

Natasha took another swig from the bottle of vodka, and surveyed New York. _It was nicer from up high,_ she thought, _she could see why Clint came here. _She took another swig from the bottle, and looked up at the stars.  
"You okay Clint," She whispered, "Wherever you are?" She took another swig. Her best friend hated her, the man she loved was dead, and the man she thought she had loved was now alive. And didn't remember her. "I'll drink to that," She rubbed her head.

"Drink to what?" A voice asked, and she pulled a gun on him,  
"Go to away,"  
"I know you,"  
"No you don't. Go away,"

"I _know _you," James Barnes repeated, and she rolled her eyes.

"You _knew _me," She reiterated, "Not any more. Now go away,"  
_His mouth on hers, her body on fire, his hands running down her body._

"Mind if I sit?"  
"Maybe I do."  
He sat down next to her, and she took another swig from the bottle.

"You know," She said, "I genuinely thought you were dead. I mean, I thought I killed you. I thought you were dead, because of me, and that fucking hurt. Like, the real reason I didn't tell Steve you were alive? I didn't put the pieces together."  
"You lied to him?"  
"I manipulated him, and look at me now," She gestured to New York with the vodka bottle, "I'm free!" She took another swig of the vodka, "Fucking free,"  
"How did I know you?" James asked, ignoring her drunken rant.

"We fucked. Like, multiple times. I was eighteen I think? I don't even know, but according to my unreliable fake memory you were my first assignment. They were trying out a new method, keeping the winter soldier human, not a weapon, so that you could be out in the field for longer times. They gave you fake memories, and made me watch over you, so I could check that you were okay."  
"And?" His fist clenched and unclenched, and she winced.

"It worked waaaaay too well," She took a long gulp from the bottle, and finished it, pulling out another from her bag, "You developed feelings James. So did I. Feelings for you. We were in love, jesus, I fucking loved you," She wiped away tears and had another drink.  
"You need to stop that," He gestured to the bottle, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm Russian, I think I can handle it."  
There was a long uncomfortable pause. "And?" James asked eventually.

"They caught us. They told me that they killed you. They said that I had compromised my entire mission. Said that if it wasn't my 'first' mission, they would have killed me," She smiled falsely, "Another exciting episode in me fucking up!" She started to cry, large ugly tears that screwed up her face, and James wrapped an arm around her awkwardly, and she flinched. "Just go away," She snivelled, and he realised that he wanted to know this strange woman who was fire and beauty and an absolute wreck.

He kissed her, and she tasted like cheap vodka and memories and he felt like he was on fire. He was burning, and he liked it, his hands running through her hair, her mouth on his. But she moved away, and smiled sadly.

"I loved somebody once James," She smiled, "But it wasn't Bucky, and thats who you are now,"  
"Thats not the only reason," He said, and she shook her head.

"Agent Clint Barton, great man, and he died." She looked down at New York, "Because of me,"

"Not everything is your fault," He said, and she kissed him, and he knew it was because she wanted him to shut up, but he wanted this, it felt right, it felt pure. And in that moment he knew that he would do anything to help her feel the same way.

"You need to talk to Steve," he pulled away reluctantly, from her chapped lipped and liquor stained breath, "You have to tell him the truth, no more lies,"  
"Manipulations," She corrected him, "And I'm never talking to Steve again,"

"You have too," He moved his face away from her lips, "You need him,"  
"No I don't," She brushed him off, and her fingers touched his face, softly, lightly, "I just need you,"  
"I'm not Clint Barton," He reminded her, and she shrugged.

"For tonight," She whispered in his ear, "You don't have to be," Her fingers moved to his shirt, and it became harder and harder to resist.

"You are a fucked up individual,"

She smiled bitterly, and moved away, "Aren't I just?" She winked, and downed the bottle of vodka.


	21. Chapter 21

**Heads up – this is not a Bucky x Natasha fanfiction. While I love Bucky, and Natsha, this fanfiction is throughly Clintasha, so don't worry x**

Bucky walked through the town of New York with his hood up, and his arm hidden in a long sleeve and his jacket pocket. He was good at hiding in a crowded place, as was the girl walking beside him. She looked up at him, and smiled, and he felt weird again. He hadn't slept with her, it wouldn't be right, but he wanted too. No, that wasn't right either. He wanted her to want him too. Shit. It was all confusing and it was all her fault. They were going to Stark Tower, he didn't know why, but he would do anything she told him too. He wondered about the man she wanted when she looked at him. Clint Barton.

_You can't hate the dead Bucky, _His Mother had told him, or was it somebody different? His memory was not what it was. But either way, he tried not to hate Clint Barton, for having Natalia Romanova mourn him.

_Did you mourn me? _He wanted to ask, _Not enough to defect, like you did for him. Did you mourn me Natalia?_

"You ready?" She asked, and he nodded,

"For what?" His metal fist clenched.

"A very special kind of robbery," She looked him up and down, "Information robbery,"  
"That's not a thing," He almost asked. Was she aware she flirted with every move, or was that only him.

"It so is," She winked, "We are going to go in, and steal some information, and you are going to punch anybody in my way,"  
"I'm not your personal hulk," he rolled his eyes, and she simply smiled.

"Let's go," They walked into the building together, cool and confident and collected. The foyer was full of people, all walking very fast, clutching folders or StarkPads, and looking very efficient. She smiled, and walked up to the gates, like those Bucky had seen in stations, and she smiled at the security man.

"Natasha Barton," She smiled, and Bucky felt a twist in his stomach. She pressed her thumb down on the little screen by the gate, and it flashed green.  
"Clear," The gates opened, and she stepped through, Bucky following behind, but the gates shut on him. "Name?" The guard asked, and he looked to Natasha, who smiled politely.

"Sir, I have the necessary clearance needed to bring a guest into..."  
"Name," The guard ignored her.

"Get Stark," Her voice was still polite, "And tell him that Mr and Mrs Barton are here,"

"Name," The guard ignored her, and she pressed something into his hand. At first he assumed it was money, but then the guard started to shake, and sank to the floor, foam starting to froth at his mouth. People looked over, and Bucky jumped the gate, chasing after Natasha, who had left immediately.

"What was that?" He asked, as they slowed into a walk, and she pulled off her hoodie and threw it in the corner. She was Black Widow now, powerful and strong, her tight vest top clinging to h. Natasha never sexualised herself, she let men do it for her. Her outfit was designed so that she could kill, but instead the guards were transfixed by her body. She winked at them, and swung her leg around so that it collided with his head, and as he sunk to the floor Bucky punched the other guard in the throat.

"Stay guard," She told him, as she used the guards pass to swipe open the door, "I'll be done in two seconds."  
He nodded, and she vanished into the room. He shot out the security camera's littering the walls, and hit the guard that Natasha had kicked with the butt of his gun. He would be out for a while, but he wouldn't die. A group of security guards ran around the corner, and he shot them in the arms, the legs, the lower torso. Anywhere where they wouldn't die. Natasha still was working. Hurry up. Another round, who paused when they saw the wounded skittering away from him.  
"You're going to need backup," He called, and they ran. Come on Natasha. Come on come on come on. He had enough. He swiped the guards pass through the door, and went into the room. It was empty.

"Natasha?" He called, wondering if she was hiding. Nothing. A window hung open, and he crossed to it, realising that he was as bad as the guards outside. He had been transfixed by her beauty, by her fire, and she had used that. Natasha Romanoff had abandoned him. Fuck. Fuck her. Fuck her to hell.

Speeding away on a motorbike, Natasha Romanoff smiled.


End file.
